Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air; And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEPPO: A VENETIAN STORY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON WINTER WITH THE GULF STREAM by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE SLAVE'S DREAM by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW S. JOHN: THE DISCIPLE, WHOM JESUS LOVED by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE IVORY GATE; AN UNFINISHED DRAFT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PUCK'S SWEETHEART by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |